


Not Exactly the Ritz

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Ficlet Omens [22]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Confession, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Other, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: The world kept ticking along after Armageddon didn't happen, like a grandfather clock that had wound down to almost nothing and then been rewound with tender care and grazed knuckles.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ficlet Omens [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620217
Comments: 8
Kudos: 143





	Not Exactly the Ritz

**Author's Note:**

> I mark fics as both m/m and other, because they are both nonbinary people, generally presenting as male.

The world kept ticking along after Armageddon didn't happen, like a grandfather clock that had wound down to almost nothing and then been rewound with tender care and grazed knuckles.

There were new patterns laced with old phrases, new cafes filled with old delights, a new side formed from old enemies.

Crowley felt like a pocket watch that had been wound too tight and was now relaxing, unwinding gently as day followed day and he and Aziraphale navigated new turns around old patterns.

Today, as in so many days, he picked Aziraphale up from the bookshop, teasing him gently. "If you're an open book these days, angel, who's reading you?

Aziraphale huffed and fussed and teased back with just as much delight and almost open fondness, "Well, clearly not you. You don't read books!"

Crowley turned in his seat, letting the Bentley carry them on down the road. She was just as good at driving as he was, after all. He gave Aziraphale a wicked smile tinged with utter fondness, way to soft a look for an active demon to wear. Retired demons on the other hand...

Aziraphale yelped. "Watch the _road_ , Crowley!"

Crowley straightened with a huff of his own, and refocused on the road, grumbling absently, "Yeah, yeah, love you too, angel."

Neither of them deigned to break the silence that filled the car after that, until Crowley snatched a parking spot outside a tiny cafe. "Look, angel," he began, "ninety miles an hour is perfectly safe in this old girl." He patted the Bentley's steering wheel, and attempted a winning smile.

Aziraphale remained frozen for a long moment and then managed in a small voice, "You said something."

"I didn't-" Crowley began, and then the memory hit him, and it was his turn to sit frozen for a moment. "Oh," he said in a small, shaky voice. "Ngk. Er. Nnnyeeeahh." He looked hesitantly sideways at Aziraphale's profile.

Aziraphale drew in a shaky breath of his own and turned his head away. "It's not exactly the Ritz," he said carefully, "but if you don't find it too fast - shall we go in and dine?"


End file.
